Shock

Shock
June 10, 2013

Today I found out my psychiatrist is going to just be working in nursing homes now and that my last appt. has been moved up to the 26th.
I'm alone. No one understands. I'm fighting back tears as I write this because no one understands and never has. Even my therapist said, “It affects me, too” and I want to reach through the phone, grab her and say, “Yeah, but you weren't fantasizing about jumping out of a window just yesterday.” And that's on five meds.
I wish I could go to a meeting and be surrounded by people who understood, be embraced, hugged, and loved. But instead all I get is judgment, screwed up faces who look at me as if what I have is catching, who back away and mutter stupid platitudes like “Everything happens for a reason.”
I was fantasizing earlier that if a certain former friend said that to me about this situation I would go grab a knife and tell her that if she ever said that to me again, “I'd kill her.”
I don't believe everything happens for a reason and never have. Otherwise, why would kids die of cancer? Why would there be mental illness? Why would I get sober for five years the first time and then start hearing noises in my head for no apparent reason?
Everything DOES NOT happen for a reason.
I'm tired of being tormented.
I'm tired.
I'm just tired.
Now, I feel everything slipping away. My job, my sanity, nothing ever lasts forever, nothing good. Why does it come so easy for so many people. I don't understand.
Why can't I hold on to anything? Why do people have to be so damn cold and uninvolved?
Why do so many people pretend to care?
I can't lose another job. I've had over 75.
If there's such a thing as reincarnation I want to come back as a pampered pet, but only with the condition that nothing ever happens to my family and I don't wind up with an abusive or neglectful family or at the pound.
I've already been through the foster care system; etc.
Now I have to find a new psychiatrist who takes Medicare before I run out of meds. I feel like I'm in one of those Sci Fi movies where I have to find a new dr. before I morph into something horrible, the horrible being the terrible me off my meds. I can't function like that, I can't work like that. I can't drive hardly. I'm a manic-depressive mess.
People don't understand. They're just like la dee dah. All casual.
I go through my life daily, working medicated, as it should be, well not as it should be but as it has to be so I can earn a living. It's not how I want it. No one wants this or would choose this.
But it's how it has to be. I accepted that a long time ago.
People think it's a choice.
It hasn't been a choice for me since 1993.
That's when I had to swallow this bitter pill.



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